


the sound of you

by oceandawn



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Forehead Touching, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22837882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceandawn/pseuds/oceandawn
Summary: if shirley did find callum, and what if ben can't hear him when he's back.maybe he doesn't need words to know ben loves him.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 24
Kudos: 168





	the sound of you

Nothing, he can't hear anything.

Even the square, a place he calls home and can recognise from a blurry picture feels like a stranger, dark and cold. He's walking aimlessly, stumbling, exhausted and still feeling the raw sandpaper against his lungs from the cold of the water.

But nothing, absolutely nothing compares to the hollow feeling in his heart, the growing wound that once healed from hands that held it so gently, hands that said they'd love him no matter what.

He felt so complete with Callum, and now he's gone, an echo in the white noise that constantly rings in Ben's skull. It's so quiet but so loud at the same time, and his teeth grit together when a bellowing pain pushes against his temples. 

Callum. He just wants Callum. Everything will be alright when he's back, always is with him, like even a rainy day has that bit of sunshine when Callum smiles at him like _that._

Every mention of his name feels like his own hands are reaching in, _digging_ into what remains of his heart and slowly taking parts away, tossing them to the side so he can't fall in love again to save the pain.

This love, though, his love for Callum is something he wants to keep, no matter what else comes for him. Nightmares could gallop inside his head as long as he has Callum when he wakes up, and the cold of the winter could freeze him as long as Callum's arms would wrap around him eventually.

But Callum, he's not here. He doesn't know where he is, and that one small blurred second of Keanu could've been the answer he needed so desperately.

His heart aches, because if he didn't show him where he is now, or bring him back, then there's _no_ _Callum to bring back._

Even as he reaches the door of Ian's home, he can only feel the rough surface of the wood, not hearing his own rough breathing, his coat brushing against the door.

Being home doesn't feel like home, because he doesn't call four walls that word, and instead, he calls home a heart he's never said he loves.

He's lost that chance, the words now stuck in his throat and _rotting._ They'll never be spoken, and even if his heart bellows for Ben to find him, he's been strangled and twisted by fate's hand too many times to give himself that hope.

Ben doesn't deserve anyone, didn't deserve Callum, and now he's left with nothing but a hollow heart and a maybe.

He feels it before he can dub what it is. The way his chest contracts, pulls in air so harsh that it burns, and the cold he feels on his cheek as the wind brushes past.

Ben's crying, not able to hear the way his throat releases pained little sounds, barely there from how tight his airway feels.

Legs failing, Ben turns, back to the door and sliding down. He parts his lips, breathes and tells himself to speak.

But nothing, nothing but the white noise. He knows what he's said, the only thing on his mind, the _only_ person.

_Callum._

He calls for him again, and the fact he can't hear that name is another sharp jolt to his chest. He'll never hear himself say those eight little letters to Callum, and neither will he hear them back if he ever does find him.

Exhaustion rocks him, but the hope of Callum and everything bright that will return with him keeps Ben wide awake. There's no time to rest until he finds him, but he doesn't even know where to _start._

Ben closes his eyes for a moment, and the sense of time fades.

There's a thump, a sharp ring, and then more thumps. Ben feels them against his fingertips on the floor, jolting his heart back to life from where it felt cold, weak.

Everything is still blurry, but there's a figure in front of him, and Ben still has enough fight in him to raise his arms. He has to fight, to stay alive to find Callum, and as the figure reaches for him, Ben shouts _no,_ but he can't hear his own desperate cry.

The figure catches his hand, and for a moment, memories cling to the white noise, a breath of complete silence.

Ben blinks, hoping somehow it'll fix the jaded puzzle pieces of his vision, but it doesn't. He's pulled up, or helped, and Ben has to look up to see the stranger.

 _Callum,_ he tells himself to say. _Where's Callum?_

The stranger says something, squeezing Ben's hand and bringing him into a hug. Ben doesn't register it, and the lack of any response causes the figure to stand back.

Ben can see it, the hand that waves across his face, it's happened numerous times before, but the darkness of the night doesn't help him in any way.

The figure takes another step, both hands coming up to his face, and for a moment, through all of the white noise, Ben thinks _this is how tall Callum is. They're as tall as Callum._

He feels it, the cold fingertips on his face, sat gently on his cheekbones. They're a little rough, familiar, and Ben almost steps closer into the feeling.

They move softly, up to where his ears sit, and their thumb brushes against the edge of them. The stranger nods, and Ben realises that they're putting attention on his ears, as if they know.

Ben nods, mumbling a yes that he doesn't know if he's actually said. He's taken inside, hand held by the cold of the stranger, and he doesn't know why he doesn't fight back.

Maybe his heart knows something he doesn't, and somehow, he trusts it this time. He's too tired not to, hoping that somehow, Callum found his way back like he always does, as if he's always been here.

A light flickers on and Ben squints. It makes the ringing louder, and his reaction promptly turns the light back off. The figure disappears, clutching at his side, but then another light, soft and warm reaches in from the other room.

Ben walks towards it, hand reaching out so he doesn't bump into anything, not trusting how he feels, colours and focus constantly out of balance.

The figure is back by his side, hand in his again, warm now, and leading Ben into the room with the lamp he recognises. He's home.

This hand feels like home, feels like _Callum's._

A second later, they sit, and Ben feels his world tip, unsteady with how much his body just wants to shut down.

Ben can see it's a man, too tall, features too sharp, hands too rough and larger than his own. So, he reaches out, careful, doing what the other man did to him mere moments ago.

He leans into Ben, hands coming up to his wrists and holding them, guiding them to his own face.

The stubble, the way it's sharp against Ben's thumb, as if it's been days without shaving. Then the softness of his skin, young with age and the curve of his jaw that he's held so many times he could draw it from memory.

And he kisses Ben's palm, tender, loving.

 _Callum,_ he says, and the man doesn't move. He says it again, a little louder.

Callum flinches. _Shit._ He's being too loud and he doesn't know, desperate in his cries to find Callum. 

When Ben mumbles, unsure what to say, Callum shifts a little, moving his hands to Ben's ears, covering them with the size of his hands and cradling his head so delicate, so fragile.

Ben sees him move closer, and when his lips brush against his, everything makes sense.

_Callum._

Their foreheads touch when Callum pulls back, breathing Ben in, thumbs moving slow over the short hairs at the side of his head. 

Ben feels as if he's back on solid ground, but the moment he hears mumbling, the reality of the situation comes crashing down. 

_I can't - I can't hear you,_ he says, Ben pushing his thumbs a little more against Callum's neck. _Callum, I can't hear you._

And Callum kisses him once more, brings him closer so that Ben can move his legs over, sitting him directly on his lap.

He gets lost, remembering parts of Callum through touch alone, and as they kiss, Ben can feel the cold on his cheek being brushed away by Callum's thumb.

_I'm sorry, I'm so sorry - Callum, Callum please forgive me._

Ben thinks it, probably says it when their lips part, but he can't be sure. He pours it into his kiss, a stinging pain striking through him when he feels a cut against the surface of Callum's cheek.

He exhales through his nose, Ben not wanting to let go, hand moving to where he knows Callum mentioned a previous injury against his stomach.

Ben mumbles against his lips, _does it hurt?_ Callum nods, Ben flicking his attention to the two fingers he holds up. He's doing a pinching gesture, as if to say _only a little._

He's lying, Ben knows he is, because Callum's breathing against his cheek breaks and falters when Ben brushes his thumb over that spot, the thin fabric not hiding how purple the skin is.

But Callum brings his head back up, focuses on him again, whispers _I've missed you_ against Ben's lips that he knows Ben can't hear, but hoping he'll feel.

Callum's hands don't hold him as strong as they did, and Callum feels his own lungs ache at kissing Ben for too long. They're both blind to their own suffering because they're back together, almost daydreaming to the point where they're too selfish to believe anything else about the world.

Ben breaks away, head down to Callum's chest as Callum himself moves his hands down Ben's back, holding him as close as atoms will allow.

He feels Callum's heartbeat, weak but there, plucking strings like a guitar that's out of tune. Ben hates it, blames himself, grips the days old shirt that still perches itself on Callum's shoulders.

Callum lifts his head back up, gently, and for a moment, Ben almost lets it fall again.

But he's holding something, Ben's glasses.

Ben takes them gently, shaking as he can already see a much brighter, focused world in the preview of those lenses. Ben takes his failed and water riddled contacts out, slowly and carefully.

Callum has the patience, holding Ben's head, feeling the weight of it on his fingers. It'd fall back down without him.

Ben's fingers shake when he places the glasses on, and it's even worse.

His heart squeezes, twists and _rips_ when Callum comes into focus. The black and blue, the cut across his cheek, the blood from his nose days old, eyes so exhausted they've lost all their beautiful colour.

Ben holds his face, brings him in, brushes his lips against his but doesn't kiss him. He doesn't feel as if he deserves it, and so he can't do it.

 _I'm sorry,_ Ben says, and the silence pulls at his lungs. He can't even hear himself apologise, to hear Callum say _it's alright._

Callum kisses his cheek, brings one of Ben's hands to Callum's chest, lets it sit there as he inhales.

_I'm okay._

Like chords on a song sheet, the sound so undeniably Callum plays against the tips of Ben's fingers, a song so uniquely him Ben pushes his hands further against him.

It tells Callum everything. Ben looks down to his hand, then back to Callum, expression questioning. Ben nods, and as Callum moves his lips, Ben can feel the words spoken to him, pieces that become words fitting together visually.

_I've missed you, Ben._

His name, _Ben's name_ sounds so weird to feel, but it's how Callum says it that breaks and folds Ben's ribs. His heart is aching, so much so that he grips Callum's shirt, frustrated with himself that he couldn't prevent this.

 _I did this to you,_ Ben cries, pushing his palm flat against his chest again, the white noise creeping back without Callum's song.

 _It doesn't matter_ mumbles against Ben's palm, his eyes following Callum's lips.

He can understand most of it, simple words, most of it still mumbles and inchorent tones of Callum's voice, but it's him. It's _Callum._

Callum smiles as Ben looks on, moisture still clinging to his eyes, and even when he's this broken, Callum will always try to be that love Ben's always needed.

He's the anchor, no matter how much rust there is, or cracks in the shape, he's there, and Ben moves into him.

 _Keep talking, please._ It feels like his voice has cracked, pieces of glass stuck inside. _I don't like the silence, it scares me._

So Callum does, and Ben allows the sound of Callum against his skin and the whisper against his cheek to dull the white noise until it's barely there, lingering.

But he can't hear himself, the words that rot against his throat bubbling to the surface, his lungs able to breathe deep where they sit against his tongue.

Ben takes his hand now, places it against the dip in his collar bone, and Callum frowns.

Callum can hear fine, but Ben wants to hear himself say it, to make sure he knows what those eight little letters sound like.

 _I love you, Cal,_ falls from Ben's lips, two parts broken, two parts warm and truth.

And when he says them, Callum smiles, a stray tear falling down his cheek as he kisses at the corner of Ben's mouth.

When Callum says it back, the rumble of his chest sounds almost exactly the same as Ben's, and with that, Ben breaks again.

He's said it, finally, knows he's said it without the fear of silence holding him back, and the relief that washes over him is more overwhelming than welcoming.

Callum says it again, almost a song Ben can pluck with his fingers against Callum's skin, and he keeps saying it until Ben gets bored of it.

He doesn't. Not even when they're freshly showered and Ben asks him to say it against the skin between his shoulder blades, hugging him close.

It's the sound of Callum that keeps him safe, the touch and the breathing that falls against his cheek.

And his heart, the true sound of Callum, so loud and rhythmic against his chest where Ben lays his head when they sleep.

The very feeling of that sound keeps him grounded, home, _loved_ in a world so silent and frightening.

But the sound of Callum is still there, a memory he won't forget, now there in new ways, still warm.

Still _home._

**Author's Note:**

> there's absolutely no dialogue in this fic because i wanted it to be completely from Ben's pov. Just white noise and confusion to what's real and what isnt.
> 
> Hope you liked it! Thanks to hovis, shelley and court for sparking this thing.
> 
> twitter - oceandawns  
> tumblr - oceandawning


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